This is an old story. This is not new. Still, I think it is important people know what happens in a “quaint tourist town.”

I was 11 the first time I was wolf whistled at while walking in town. I didn’t even have boobs.

I was walking home from school at the age of 15, dressed in baggy clothes, when an old man kept circling the block. He later followed me and my friends to a grocery store.

I was walking home from work as a waitress at the age of 16, when I had a man in his 40s slow his car down and ask me “How much for a party?” He refused to leave me alone and refused to believe I wasn’t a prostitute until a cop car came by.